Crashing Souls (30 page)

“And what if he doesn’t? What if he leaves me again?” I buried my face in my hands. After a few moments of gathering myself, I looked over at him again.

“Are you always going to be so afraid of life that you don’t live it? Tell him, Noa. He deserves to know.” The old man stood. “He
will
find out. Don’t waste time.”

I ran my hand down the back of my neck. My sweat had since dried, and I felt the chill of the breeze.

“You will find your end at the bottom of your drinking glass.” Because my hand had already been there, I felt the prickle of goose bumps below the back of my hairline. I glanced over to where the old man stood.

I was alone.

I ran back to Tracey’s, my pace faster than usual.

I opened the front door quietly, hoping to remain unnoticed. Tracey peeked at the door from the kitchen and beckoned me over. I figured she’d be awake. She was always the first one awake.

She
handed me coffee when I walked in. I set it down and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, chugging it.

“Went for a run?” she asked, her eyes perusing through the day’s newspaper.

I nodded. “Seemed like a good idea.”

“Today will be hard. But we’ll all be here. I do have something I wanted to talk to you about. It seems like, with all the chaos, we haven’t really gotten a chance to be alone.” She paused and looked me in my eyes. “I wanted to say that I’m so sorry for your loss. I remembered your brother at your birthday party. You two shared a rare connection, having gone through hell together. Also, I wanted to tell you that I’m so happy you had the time that you needed before coming back into Dex’s life. You’re a better woman for it, though you may question it from time to time. The girl I met and the woman you are now, they’re so alike in so many ways but so different in the best ways. You’re stronger and your love for Dexter… it’s beautiful. Just as strong as his love for you.”

I placed my hand on hers. From the moment she’d brought me a banana smoothie to chase away my hangover, we had this bond. She was almost like an older sister, telling me stories about Dexter I’m sure he’d kill her over.

“As true as that may be, I want you to understand that if you’re serious about this, you can’t leave Dexter again. He wouldn’t survive it. He almost didn’t go to school, Noa. It was like his reason for living was gone. And now that Molly is almost gone, he’ll need you to stick around. I’m asking you, begging you, if you aren’t going to stay, leave now. Before it gets to be too much for you to handle.”

I understood that I could never really promise her that I wouldn’t go anywhere, but I said what I could.

“I know you’re worried. But don’t be. As long as we’re alive and he wants me, I’ll be here.”

“
Finally,” Dexter said from the doorway. I held my hand over my heart, startled by his interruption. I could only catch my breath for a moment before he swung me in his arms and excused us before jogging up the steps.

“Put me down, caveman,” I shrieked, thumping him on the back with halfhearted punches. Once he shut the door behind him, he threw me on the bed. I was still laughing when he lay on top of me. Still laughing when he kissed my neck. I stopped laughing when his hand went up my shirt.

“I just came in from a run,” I whispered, wriggling underneath him. “I stink.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. I worry that, if I make the wrong move, you’ll leave again. Or worse, you’ll start drinking again. Hearing what you said downstairs made me not worry so much anymore.”

I tried to keep a straight face. His hands went farther up my shirt, and I hiccupped over my next breath. His fingers were touching sensitive skin, and we wrestled to take off the barriers between us.

It was different this time. Of course, there was the undeniable need that felt like the world would burn if we didn’t get to each other. But it was sweeter this time. We spent more time looking into each other’s eyes, and Dexter spoke hushed words into my skin, telling me I was beautiful and that I was his. That he’d follow me forever. I couldn’t speak, let alone form a coherent sentence, but I let my actions speak for me. The gentle slope of ecstasy made me shudder, and when I came back down, he was still whispering.

“‘I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.’” He quoted the words to me as easily as if he’d come up with them himself. I was sure Leo Tolstoy hadn’t had this in mind when he wrote them, but it was
one
of those moments when anything I might’ve said in those few seconds died in my throat.

He brought his mouth to mine, and as he pulled away, I finally had the mind to quote something in return.

“‘I can’t think of you and myself apart. You and I are one to me,’” I whispered against his lips before bringing him back to me.

He groaned against my neck, and I heard the gravel in his voice under his confession.

“I must’ve read that book a million times while you were gone.”

“A wonderful, tragic little love story,” I said, stroking the skin on his back. He picked up his head and chuckled.

“A never-ending catastrophe. But it made me feel closer to you, for some reason.” He sat up and pulled me along with him. “Let’s shower. Today is the big day.”

He went ahead of me, and while I gathered my clothes from the floor, I heard a voice.

You must tell him, Noa.

I would tell him. Once everything settled down, I would finally tell him.

•••

I didn’t cry when Tim was handed to me in a metal urn. It was pretty enough, but it wasn’t going to be his home for much longer. The pastor came to the podium and recited a few scriptures, telling us that God had Tim now. I tuned all of it out because that man knew nothing about Tim.

Tracey, Dexter, and Ralph were the only ones I’d invited. A few of Tim’s buddies from work came too, but I figured they would. Still, not enough people to fill two rows. The pastor cleared his throat, and I snapped out of it, grabbing the urn and heading to the podium.

“I could come up here and tell you all how wonderful Tim was. But, honestly, he wasn’t that wonderful. He
was
just a man. The greatest accomplishment of his life was being bilingual. Oh, and raising me for a few years.” I looked down at his urn and felt like I was screwing up this speech. I sniffed and looked up again. “But, even as a regular guy, Tim had moments where he was exceptional. Like the day I came to him and told him I had to get out of here. We sat for
hours
trying to figure out where to, but I knew…I knew my brother had my back. He paid for my flight to Seattle and gave me the couple thousand he’d managed to save. Like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t been saving it for something better than his troubled kid sister to run away from her problems. That kind of selflessness is something you don’t see. Whether it was taking me in during what was supposed to be the best years of his life or flushing away his savings so I could chase my dreams, I owe that man,” my breath hitched and my vision blurred, “I owe him
everything.
I figured, Tim, I could at least give you freedom.” I stepped off the podium and walked to the front door. The wind was howling when I opened it, and I smiled as I continued to walk down the deserted road. I reached the old wooden bridge and lifted the lid, dumping the urn over and watching as his ashes flew away.

I blew a kiss to the sky and dropped the urn into the river. I wished he could tell me how it felt to be finally free.

Chapter
32

S
eattle hadn’t missed me, but I sure missed it. I wrapped myself in my blanket and pulled back the curtain, looking out into the city night.

Christmas with Phoebe had been fun in the way that children brought wonder and excitement. She’d received more than enough dolls and knick knacks, but everyone had been surprised when she opened the gift I’d managed to sneak off and get.

An easel and paint. All different kinds: sparkly, neon, basic, and even glow-in-the-dark. She’d been delighted, and I even offered to have her come to my studio with me, my sacred place. Dexter loved it. And if I had any second thoughts about that fact, he’d proved it that night. I still felt his hands all over me as I leaned my head back with a sigh. I missed him. It was strange. Different from missing him before.

Dexter was a ghost before. Sometimes I’d wondered if I’d made him up, a figment of my imagination. I missed the idea of him. But now, I was missing the familiar things. His smile, his love. It was almost tangible. And I missed the way he would slowly build me up and bring me back down. I shivered, bringing the blanket closer.

My phone rang from across the room, and I hurried over to it. Since Tim’s death, I’d begun answering all of my calls. Even if it was a small side effect, it still felt like I was picking up some of the figurative rubble of what peace I thought I’d had left.

“Hello?” I answered the phone sounding breathless, having been caught fantasizing.

“I can feel you missing me.”

Ah,
my inspiration.

“Where are you calling me from?” I asked, not recognizing the number.

“My hotel room.”

I switched my phone from one hand to other.

“I thought you went home, Dexter.” There was silence on the other end of the phone, and I was about to check if the call dropped when he spoke again.

“Something told me not to.”

“Come over?”

He made a sound of quick relief.

“I thought you’d never ask. I’m on my way.”

He hung up, and I sat down before jumping back up to spruce the place up. I changed my clothes and took my hair down. For once, I wanted to look nice. And when Dexter knocked on my door, I was ready for him.

I’d always thought of my vulnerability as a curse. I hated how I was a prisoner to every emotion. And after I moved away, I settled for a life without passion, a life without urgency or sensation. Only when I was painting did I let those things rule. Until him. When I was in his space, everything was available to him, laid out like a feast. My heart, my body, my feelings. They all belonged to him.

And the best part about it was that I knew he belonged to me as well.

When our bodies were spent, resting in a heaping mess of limbs and sweat, I picked my head up to look at him. His lips were parted and his features relaxed in that way that showed me he’d been thoroughly pleasured.

I fell asleep in my bed with Dexter’s body covering mine.

•••

“Wake up, Blue,” Dexter whispered in my ear. I blinked and sat up groggily. When I looked out my window, I saw it was still dark.

“
Everything okay?” I asked him, looking him over for any signs of distress. He was sitting back, his bare chest on display.

“Yeah. I just felt like we were wasting time.”

“Sleep is
not
a waste of time,” I said, throwing myself back on the bed and looking at the ceiling. When he leaned into my line of sight, I giggled. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

“Take a walk?”

I rolled over and grabbed his watch from the nightstand.

“It’s midnight,” I started to say before I caught myself. “Sure. Let’s get dressed and go for a walk.” I hopped out, dropping the blanket and heading to my dresser. I didn’t buy lingerie. Before Dexter I had no reason to. Now that Dexter was here, I was sure he’d rather see what was underneath anyway. I pulled on plain black underwear and a bra and dug through my drawers for my favorite pair of jeans. As I shimmied them on, I noticed Dexter smiling at me, already dressed.

“What?”

He walked around my bed, looking at the pictures I looked at during my lonely nights and touching the things I touched.

“You’re so direct. No frills, no games. It’s nice. I feel like I can trust you.” Luckily, I was turned away from him when he said this. I frowned and closed my eyes momentarily. “I realized that when no one told me about Greg. They kept it from me. But you were the only honest person, the only one not keeping anything from me.”

I pulled a blouse on, buttoning it as I faced him. When he handed me my coat with a kiss, I knew I’d have to tell him sooner rather than later.

We walked, mostly hand in hand, for a half hour, Dexter making me laugh most of the way.

“
So, you have to tell me. And be honest. I refuse to believe you haven’t dated at all for seven years. What gives?” His smile was innocent, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity. I tried to fight my smile but was unsuccessful, of course.

“Sure, yeah. I went on a few dates. I even kissed a few of them. But it’s like…wearing clothes that aren’t your size. Or, I don’t know, like Goldilocks.” I laughed when I realized how ridiculous I sounded. I was relating love and sex to a children’s story.

“No, no. I know what you mean. It wasn’t right.” He pulled me against him, and I kissed his chin. When I stepped back, I looked past him at the neon sign practically screaming for my attention. A snap judgment had me grabbing his hand and leading him toward it. Once we stood in front of the building’s door, he peered down at me, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Bad idea?” I asked, the words coming out in a nervous huff.

“Only if you aren’t completely sure.” His frown was adorable.
Focus.

“Are you completely sure?” I shoved my hands in my coat pockets.

“Without a doubt. So completely sure that there isn’t any more room for sure left.” I threw my head back and laughed. He ran his fingers down my face, bringing me back to him. “Are you completely sure?”

“I’d rather show you than tell you,” I whispered before taking his hand again and opening the door. We were greeted by the sound of buzzing and a bored looking young woman fiddling with one of her many piercings. It made me miss the metal I’d had lining my lobe. I touched my ear, my fingers on the few studs I’d kept. Her eyes brightened significantly when she saw us, and I couldn’t help but think how fun it would be to paint her. I wasn’t known for portraits, but one of
her
would totally be worth it. All of that ink covering her skin…beautiful.